xp_logs | Nathan and Madelyn, Nathan and Moira, Saturday night (Reply)

Nathan returns to the medlab to check on Foley, but winds up having a talk with Madelyn about where they go from here when it comes to Mistra. Nate's not feeling particularly ambitious at the moment.

Headed back downstairs to the medlab, it dawned on Nathan that he didn't even know what time it was. Sometime evening-ish. Not too late, he thought; there were still plenty of people abroad in the halls. But he'd been upstairs for longer than he'd expected, after his little eruption at Haroun, and guilt at leaving Mick for that long mingled with guilt at having hurt Haroun until he felt almost ill with it.

Madelyn was just coming out of Foley's room when Nate arrived with an almost-palpable miasma of guilt following like a cartoon rain cloud. She'd given Foley a light sedative - the man needed to sleep, to have some breathing space at least - and looking at Nathan made her consider doing to the to him. "He's fine," she said as he approached, before he could ask the question. "He's sleeping."

Nathan stopped, his eyes moving past her to the door of the room. "That's good," he said, his voice rough with fatigue. "I'll go sit with him, I guess..." He didn't want Mick to wake up alone, in restraints in a locked room. That wouldn't be good.

"I just put him out - he'll sleep for an hour or two at least. You've got time for a break, and you are going to take one. Before you fall over and I have to put you in the next bed." Madelyn's voice was stern, but her expression compassionate. "Come and have a coffee with me. Have you eaten?"

She was taking his arm and drawing him back in the direction he'd come before he could launch a protest. "I don't think I could eat," Nathan said, swallowing. "Coffee, though... coffee wouldn't be a bad idea. Are you sure he won't wake up alone?"

"Positive. All those years of medschool, remember?" He needed to eat sometime, but Madelyn knew him forcing himself would be a bad idea. Better to wait until he felt more like it. "I gave him a sedative and sat with him until it took hold - he needed some breathing space."

"He needs a lot more than breathing space. But I don't know how to give it to him." They were out in the main medlab area now, and Madelyn nudged him in the direction of a chair as she went over to the coffeemaker. Nathan sagged into the chair, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I blew up the living room of my suite," he said almost pitifully.

"We'll figure something out. That's what we do." Madelyn checked for a clean mug - there were plenty, Rahne must have done the washing up again - and poured coffee into it. "You... wait, you what? And Moira didn't kill you?"

"Accident," Nathan said drearily. "She forgave me. Since I didn't actually blow up Haroun. And I didn't actually blow it up, I just... broke some furniture. And the window. Nothing irreplaceable."

"Haroun was there? Suddenly all this makes much more sense... Ali, right?" Madelyn brought over two mugs, handing one to Nathan before she sat down. She looked tired, but not as exhausted as she had been - with Moira on deck the night before she'd been able to get a full night's sleep, and then some. "How macho and protective was he?"

Nathan blinked. "No," he protested weakly, taking the mug from her. "That wasn't it. We were..." He stopped, looking upset for a moment before he wrestled his expression back under control. "He thought we should be declaring open season on Mistra. Told me... well, never mind. We disagreed. Then I just..." He waved his free hand aimlessly. "Sort of lost it."

"Strangely enough..." Madelyn murmured, rolling her eyes a little. Yes, the Mistra question needed to be addressed - they couldn't stand by and do nothing, she thought with a brief flash to those over-sized body bags again. But not now. Nate was skating the edge, had been since that call from MacInnis, and it wouldn't take much to push him too far. And hadn't, by the looks of it. She'd barely finished the though before she realised she was probably projecting at him an he'd heard all that - Madelyn's psychic training was minimal at best, and she tended to be fairly verbal in her thinking processes. "Haroun's not the most subtle of people," she said with a wry smile.

"He's right, though." His shoulders slumped, Nathan raised the cup to his lips. "Just like Cain was right. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and it's about time I snapped the fuck out of it and tried to find out. Licking your wounds is all well and good, but I've been taking it to excess."

"Unfortunately you haven't really been given a lot of recovery time, given the month from hell following the summer from hell. We really need to talk to whoever schedules our disasters..." Madelyn sipped her coffee, looking at Nathan over the top of the mug. "So, taking into account physical and mental exhaustion, what do we do next?" The 'we' was said with quiet determination - if there was something to be done, Madelyn wanted in on it, to the best of her albeit limited abilities.

"I suppose--" The words caught in Nathan's throat, and it took him a moment to force them out. "We see what Pete can do with the information we got from Vermont and from Belgium. And I maybe... I should probably talk to MacInnis."

Madelyn nodded. "That sounds like the reasonable course. Get the intel - _reliable_ intel, go from there. It means that we've got a better chance of stopping this, rather than just going in and mopping up."

"I don't know if MacInnis is reliable," Nathan said dully. "Or if he ever was. He was there, in Leuven. Showed up after everything was done and told me he'd wanted to see how I would handle it." His grip on the mug tightened spasmodically.

"That's what I was getting at, yeah." Madelyn didn't miss the reaction, and her voice dropped slightly into her 'soothing doctor' tones. "He's playing you - that much is clear. But you've got those hard drives for Pete, and those _have_ to have something. Besides whatever Mick can tell us when he's a bit more stable." She glanced in the direction of Foley's door, and then down at her watch. Still plenty of time before he'd start stirring, mutant metabolism or no mutant metabolism.

Nathan took another sip of his coffee, noting even in his fatigue her glance at the door and her watch. "I'm realizing something you know," he said hoarsely. "After talking to Haroun... I think my problem is that I don't really think we can stop them."

"Maybe not," Madelyn said softly, and she wrapped both hands tightly around her mug. "But we still have to try. _I_ have to try." She didn't say it, but the image of those body bags was very much in the forefront of her mind. "I still know some people in the Bureau - Fred Duncan would be on this like a shot. If they're welcome, I can call in a few favours."

"Ask Pete?" He tried, vainly, to smile at her. "I know the government's running their own investigation and has been for a while. Charles brought it up with the President back in... April, I think."

"I will." Madelyn leaned forward a little. "Nate, I know something needs to be done. And soon. But you're taking on too much. Again. You don't have to fight Mistra alone."

"I didn't. I didn't go to Vermont alone, Alison was with me in Belgium... I'm not deluding myself that I can stand up to them on my own. I think August proved to me that I couldn't."

"So, we've got the government, Pete and his group, the Pack, not to mention Charles and the rest of the resources here. And you. We may not be able to stop them, but by God we can make a damn good stab at it." The doctor slipped, and the FBI agent stared out through Madleyn's determined eyes. "They need standing up to, Nathan. But not by rushing in half-assed. It'll take planning and co-ordinating and calling in a hell of a lot of favours. and that needs time. _You_ need time. But we will get them in the end, or at least make life as fucking difficult as possible."

Nathan sipped at his coffee almost mechanically. All Madelyn's vehemence did was make him feel more tired. He didn't have the energy to agree with her, and the part of him that wanted to disagree, to hide from what she was saying, could just... shut up. He was feeling like enough of a coward already.

"'O sweet tomorrow, after today, there will away, this sense of sorrow'," Nathan murmured. "'Then let us borrow, hope for a gleaming, soon will be streaming, dimmed by no gray...'" He shrugged at Madelyn's questioning look. "Thomas Hardy. One of Mick's favorites."

"Appropriate." Madelyn leaned back again letting the anger slip away. Agent Bartlet wasn't needed here. Doctor Maddie was. "I know you'll be sitting with him most of the night, but do let me spell you at some stage? Moira needs her cuddlebear."

"I will. I think... I'm pushing the no-sleep thing again," Nathan admitted after a moment, his voice still low but a bit steadier. "Which is a vicious circle, as we all well know." The smile was very slightly more successful this time.

"As amusing as it is to have you babble at me in Askani, let's not, shall we?" Madelyn chuckled a little and finished her coffee. "This didn't exactly go the way I'd planned it. I was supposed to be all pithy and comforting and make you feel better, but I think I just made it worse."

Nathan shook his head. "I needed to hear what you had to said," he corrected her almost absently. "Just like I needed to hear what Haroun had to say." And Cain, last weekend... "I just don't know what I'm going to do about it yet. I think I have roughly three functioning brain cells to rub together at the moment, which is probably the problem."

"I'd say it's definitely the problem. You did get the disclaimer in there about physical and mental exhaustion, yes?" Madelyn set her mug down on the low table between them. "Mick's good for a while longer, and I don't mind watching him for a while longer. And Moira's got that enormous pile of cushions on her couch, as well you know." Madelyn smiled a little. "Besides, I've gotten used to having a patient to look after - I was all at loose ends yesterday."

Nathan looked at the still mostly-full mug of coffee, then set it down. "Maybe... maybe I will," he said aloud, almost hesitantly. The sudden longing at the thought of going upstairs, to Moira, was almost overwhelming.

"No maybe. Go, shoo. Sleep. Or not-sleep. Whatever." Madelyn made vague shooing gestures at him. "I've got my panic button, so if I need you, you and Moira will know, okay?"

Nathan was rising before he quite knew what he was doing. "Thanks, Maddie," he said, then managed a real smile, if a very faint one. "You're a good friend, you know. On top of being a good doctor."

"What is this, a conspiracy to inflate my ego? First Scott, now you. How will I relate to the kids if I'm all happy about myself, hmm?" she teased, standing and picking up both mugs. "Go. Bed. Nice cuddly Scottish doctor."

He raised both hands. "Going," he said quietly. "And maybe you'll rub off on the kids. Stranger things have happened, no?"

He goes back to the suite to find Moira waiting for him. She's definitely forgiven him for the living room.

Moira had spent most of the time Nathan had been gone awake. Completely, utterly, mind- numbingly awake. She couldn't even blame it on the link, simply that the week's events had taken a toll on her and she had been worried for far too many people in such a limited amount of time. Now that he was home, she had thought she could be able to sleep, at least for a while.

Somewhere, God was laughing at her.

Madelyn had chased him out again, telling him to get at least a few hours sleep. He had promised to try. On his way upstairs, though, he was increasingly unaware of just how unlikely that was. Upon arriving at the suite, he winced as he walked through the still rather-messy living room and into the bedroom. Moira was already in bed, and he got changed in silence, slipping in beside her and fully aware of the fact that she was still awake.

"He's asleep again," he said hoarsely, after a moment. "A sedative, and I think... Charles, maybe. Like what he did for me in August."

"Good," she murmured, rolling over on her side so she could face him, even in the dark. "Means less worry for ye right now. Nay tha' yer goin' ta take advantage o' it." Sliding over, Moira snuggled closer, realizing how much she had missed his presence in their bed over the last few days. "'ow're ye 'oldin' up, love?"

"Badly," he confessed quietly, putting his arms around her. "Really quite... badly. I know you can feel it." He shifted, kissing the top of her head. "But I have to hold it together. Too much that needs doing."

Moira hugged him tightly, pulling him as closely as was possible. "Ye dinnae always 'ave ta be stron'," she reminded him gently, stroking the link softly in an attempt to soothe his battered mind in some fashion.

"No. But right now, I do," he murmured, closing his suddenly stinging eyes at the gentle caress on the link. "If I fall down, I won't be able to get back up again, and Mick needs me."

"'ow lon' do ye think it'll take ta get 'im back on 'is feet?" She was concerned Nathan would burn himself out with this. All the emotional stakes were too high and this game a little too dangerous for her tastes. "I worry."

"I don't know. Charles is doing what he can... he learned a lot from Kritzer's trojan horse." Nathan sighed heavily. "I don't know what to think. I'm so sick of people telling me to snap out of it and fight..."

"Even...nay, especially ye deserve a break, Nathan." Couldn't they see that? Didn't they know that the psyche was like fine tuning heated metal? Push and bend too hard and it comes out warped, broken. But if one treated it correctly, enough push and enough give, then it would turn out fine. "Ye'll need ta 'snap out' o' it eventually, love, but when yer ready."

"And how many die while I try and figure out what to do?" Nathan murmured unevenly. "MacInnis seems to think I still have some kind of role to play. How much longer can I justify licking my wounds in a corner somewhere?" He shook his head, as much as one could when one was lying down, as he sensed her about to reply to that. "Rhetorical question," he said with the faintest touch of wry humor in his voice. "And before you try to tell me I got back on the horse this week, Moira... I had my eyes closed the whole time. Metaphorically, I mean. Does it count as facing your fears when you pretend to ignore them?"

"Aye, it does. Because, really, ye cannae ignore them, can ye Nathan? Nay in th' back o' yer mind an' ye know tha'. So, aye, this WAS a good first step." Moira snorted softly in the dark and turned her gaze up to the ceiling. "An' currently, MacInnis can go fuck 'imself for all I give a flip for wha' 'e thinks."

Nathan smiled a bit weakly in the dark. "Alison had him in a chokehold ready to laser him in the head, did I tell you that? I wish I'd had a digital camera, I really do..." He took a deep, shuddering breath and then curled more tightly around her warm body. So cold. He'd been so cold ever since Vermont. "We'll get through this," he said hoarsely. "Get Mick stable, off to the Pack where he's out of their reach and safe--" They had talked about the options earlier.

As best she could, Moira folded herself around Nathan, holding onto him tightly. "We'll see th' light eventually," she agreed. "Nay sure when but we will. Promise."

"I love you," Nathan murmured, and closed his eyes. He'd try to sleep. If he couldn't, at least he could be here, holding her.